Of Zeppole and Fond Farewells
by asesina
Summary: Mac doesn't want Stella to be alone on her last day in New York. Could be interpreted as friendship or Smacked.


Of Zeppole and Fond Farewells by asesina

a/n: inspired by spoilers that Stella is leaving. this is a quick Mac and Stella-centric story about her last day in New York during the San Gennaro Festival in September. Can be interpreted as Smacked relationship or as friendship.

disclaimer: I don't own CSI.

Enjoy!

Stella Bonasera hurried around her office, mouthing the word "check" every time she mentally crossed another item off her internal to-do list.

For the past seven days, she had been busy cleaning out her office, finishing up paperwork, and trying her hardest not to tear up when she realized that _this was it_.

This was her last week in New York.

Forever.

She kept telling herself not to be silly, that _nothing_ was really forever, that this assignment was finite and that she would be back in the hustle and bustle of the Big Apple in no time.

However, she really knew that the assignment in New Orleans could last for months or even years, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she wouldn't see the Empire State for a very, very long time.

Stella exhaled audibly and straightened the paperweight on her desk one last time. She dragged it towards her, feeling as heavy and unmovable as the pewter Statue of Liberty that left a trail in the fine dust on her desk.

She brought the paperweight to the edge of the desk and let it teeter on the edge before it toppled into the large cardboard box that held the other vestigial personal effects from her old office.

The afternoon sunlight poured in through the blinds, leaving a striped pattern of alternating bands of light and darkness across the room.

Stella approached the window and sighed softly as she took one last look at the New York City skyline, silver and glinting above the yellow-dotted streets that crossected the stainless steel giants.

"_This is your last glance. Make it count_," Stella thought ruefully, and she shook her head as she turned back to her office.

"Need any help?" a voice asked suddenly.

Stella's head lifted in alarm, sending her curly hair flying in wild spirals away from her face, and her eyes softened as she met the familiar gaze of Mac Taylor.

"No, I'm fine, Mac," she replied with a warm grin.

"Would you mind some company, then?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he surveyed the emptiness of her office.

"No, no, not at all," Stella said breathlessly, motioning for Mac to sit down as she pulled a photo from her desk.

Her eyes crinkled and she smiled gently as she glanced at the picture.

She and Mac were smiling in front of a fountain in Central Park, and they were flanked on both sides by their fellow detectives. Even the MEs were in the shot, she noted, grinning at Sid's surprised expression when he realized that the camera had gone off too soon.

"I remember that day," Mac mused softly as he glanced over Stella's shoulder.

"Me too. It was windy out, right?" she said quietly, looking away from Mac as she felt tears stinging at her green eyes.

"Yeah, and we had that hot dog vendor take our picture," Mac said, smiling a little as he remembered how Stella's hair flew in front of his face in the first shot.

"Mm-hmm," Stella nodded as she placed the photo gingerly into the box.

She turned back to her desk and pulled a metal keychain with the slogan "I love New York" on it from her top drawer.

"Adam gave me this when he thought that we were mad at him. He apologized about twenty times for taking too long with some lab results, but his fibers ended up solving the case," she recalled fondly, letting the keychain drop into the box with a gentle metallic clang.

"He got me a mug that day. I think it said 'World's Greatest Boss'", Mac replied with a smirk.

"I'm going to miss him," Stella added, blinking hard as she pulled a few more items from her desk.

"This Empire State building pen is from Lindsay. You should have seen her when she first came to New York. I think she spent her entire first paycheck on tourist knick knacks," Stella said with a grin.

"You miss her already, right?" Mac asked with an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, I miss all of you already," Stella admitted, willing her voice not to crack with emotion as she pulled another memento from her drawer.

It was a tiny paper Italian flag from the San Gennaro festival last year.

"Danny told me that Italian cooking was better than Greek cooking, and then I pointed out that I was half Italian, so I could go both ways," Stella laughed, waving the flag as she dropped it into the box.

"The San Gennaro festival is still going on," Mac said suddenly.

"Mac, I'd love to go, but I still have some paperwork to file from our recent cases," Stella replied with a frown.

"I think that a few hours in Little Italy would do you some good, Stella," he said.

"Let me know what you'd like to do," Mac added as he stood and walked towards the door.

"I'm going home at 6, so just give me a call if you're free," he said as he exited the room.

Stella quietly considered his offer as she gathered the rest of her personal belongings and packed them neatly in the box.

Two hours later, Stella was well into her third espresso, and her office was nearly bare.

She sat in her oversized office chair and spun in slow, plaintive circles as she contemplated the past and future of her career.

She was delighted to take the position in New Orleans, but she was leaving so much behind here.

Stella was grateful for the good-bye party that the team had given her last night, where the hugs and speeches and tears were plentiful as the bottles of champagne on the table.

However, once the fervor and splendor of the party faded, she was left with little more than an echo of the previous night's boisterous conversation and heart-warming camaraderie.

She looked over to the window and noted that the sun was still out, but it was noticeably lower in the sky.

Stella glanced at her watch and was surprised to see that it was already six o'clock, and she immediately remembered Mac's offer.

She picked up her phone and hit the number 7, set as speed-dial for Mac's number, and waited.

"Taylor," he answered, and Stella took in a deep breath.

"I feel like getting some zeppole," Stella said, and she could feel Mac grinning on the other end.

"I'll meet you in a few minutes," Mac said.

Mac met Stella outside her office, and they shared a brief, quiet elevator ride together before they reached the main level of the building.

Mac smiled knowingly at Stella as they pulled open the main doors and exited onto the heavily congested sidewalks of New York.

Stella hailed a cab and gave the driver quick instructions as they began the short journey towards the San Gennaro festival.

Mac glanced over at Stella and grinned, noticing that she had taken extra precaution to dress warmly. Her forest green blazer was buttoned all the way to the top, just up to the tip of her chin.

"You never did like the cold, did you?" Mac asked with a smirk.

"No, I much prefer the sunny shores of Greece," she admitted with a chuckle, meeting Mac's eyes with a stare that was full of nostalgia and things left unspoken, and Mac understood.

"Stella," he began, placing a hand on her arm gently as he stared back into her eyes.

"I-I'm not going to be sad, Mac. It'll just make all of this harder," Stella replied in a voice that was suddenly thick with tears, and Mac shook his head gently.

"Take all the time you need, Stella. Say what you want and do what you want. It's better to do what you need and be happy than to deny yourself and live in regret," he offered with a sad smile.

"Thank you, Mac. I just don't know how easy it will be tomorrow when I get on the plane and never look back," she whispered.

"Stella, you are always welcome back. As long as I'm working here in New York, you will always have a friend in the city, and the rest of the team will be there for you too," he consoled, patting her arm quickly before pulling his hand away.

Mac had never been a man of many words, but when he was willing to talk, he was always full of wisdom and kindness, Stella mused.

She smiled quickly and brushed away a tear.

"Thank you, Mac," she mouthed.

He nodded in reply and nodded towards the driver.

"We're almost there," he said with a smile.

"Yeah. Hey, do you want to split the fare?" she asked suddenly.

"Stella, allow me. It's your last day in the city," Mac said.

"Okay. Thank you," she replied gratefully.

As they pulled up the sidewalk, Mac handed the driver the fare and offered Stella a hand as he opened the door.

"Let's go, Detective Bonasera," he said with a grin.

"Why, thank you, Detective Taylor," she replied with a flourish as they stepped out of the cab.

As they made their way through the crowd, Mac put his arm around Stella's shoulders and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

"You'll do just fine in New Orleans. I have full confidence that their lab will do very well under your command," he said quietly.

"Thank you, Mac," Stella replied, reaching over to kiss Mac gently on the cheek as she took his hand and pulled him toward one of the street vendors.

"Now, how about those zeppoles?"

End


End file.
